


I'm Slurring on Purpose

by TaylorLives



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, What Happened in Cape Town? (Panic! at the Disco)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaylorLives/pseuds/TaylorLives
Summary: Brendon is so sick of Ryan treating him one way and differently the next. Its like total whiplash and Brendon is over it. They just finished their last show of the tour in Cape Town, South Africa and Brendon decides to celebrate Ryan not talking to him for 3 days by getting absolutely wasted. Or at least that's what Ryan thinks.ORPanic at the Disco doesn't break up in Cape Town but they probably should have.
Relationships: Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. I'm Slurring on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is lmao all i know is that I think of a scenario like this every time I listen to Bittersweet.

At this point, Brendon was a little more drunk than he wanted to admit. The room was spinning, he barely had the brain function to tell what song was playing, but honestly, he didn't really care. It was the last show of the tour and Ryan was giving him the cold shoulder all night for what seemed like no reason. Brendon was totally fucking over it. He was so done with Ryan using his mood as a manipulation technique. He didn't even do anything to piss him off this time. He didn't understand. 

Brendon waved at the bartender and pushed his shot glass over, getting a refill. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on his back, somewhere from the edge of the club where he was leaning against the wall, nursing the same fruity drink for what seemed like an hour. 

The bartender didn't seem to question his state of inebriation and happily poured him another shot. 

“How much for a bottle?” Brendon asked, as if it mattered. He sounded much more sober than he felt.

“490.” The man said. 

Brendon wasn't all too sure of the conversion rate between USD and the South African Rand but he dumped his pockets on the counter and let the man take the right amount. Or what Brendon assumed was the right amount. 

Brendon put the rest of his money back into his pocket and shoved the bottle of vodka under his arm. Some brand he’d never seen before. He downed the shot at the same time someone next to him cleared their throat. 

“We should go.” Ryan said almost sternly, suddenly next to Brendon. 

He rolled his eyes toward the taller man, glaring. “I was just getting started, thanks.” 

“You’ve had plenty.” Ryan said, taking out his own wallet to pay the tab. “Jon and Spencer already went back up to their room. It's almost 3.” 

Brendon rolled his eyes again, cringing at how the lights made him nauseated. Maybe he shouldn't do that again. “Gee thanks mom,” Brendon said lazily, letting the words slur together. “Didn't you know what life was gonna be like as a rock star? Blacking out and staying out all night, waking up next to someone you've never even seen before?” 

“You're embarrassing Brendon. Let's go.” Ryan said, tugging him to his feet and away from the bar. 

Brendon followed reluctantly, shuffling his feet, out of the bar and into the halls of the hotel. They decided to celebrate the last show by staying in a relatively nice hotel compared to what they're used to. And at the end of the day, anything was better than the tour bus. 

The only downside was that Brendon and Ryan were sharing a room, while the other half of the band shared one across the hall. But again, real beds. Brendon didn't complain. 

Brendon followed Ryan up the back stairs, having to stop more than once to grab the railing and rebalance himself. At one point, he stopped and cracked the bottle of vodka open and took a swig, cringing. 

Ryan made a frustrated sound, turning around and snatching the bottle out of Brendon's hands. 

“Hey!” Brendon protested with a pout. “I paid for that.” He let the words come out in a jumble sounding more like ‘i pafordat’. 

“What the hell is going on with you?” Ryan asked. 

Brendon shrugged, the only thing on his mind being that this is the most that Ryan’s said to him in the last two days. Maybe he should get drunk more often. 

Ryan sighed, pulling him up the last few stairs and into their room. He tucked the bottle into the mini-fridge and locked the door behind them. 

“I was _celebrating_ , Ryan.” Brendon said, falling back onto his bed and clumsily kicking his shoes off. “You should try it sometime. Lot more fun than being angry all the time.” 

“I'm not angry all the time.” Ryan said, taking his own shoes off and hanging up his coat. 

“You haven't talked to me in like two days.” 

Ryan sighed in frustration. “You're annoying, you know that?” 

Brendon frowned, eyebrows coming together. “What the fuck did I do to you man? Huh? You’re a fuckin shitty ass rollercoaster, happy and smiley one minute and telling me to fuck right off the other. Give a guy whiplash, y’know that Ryan?” He asked, throwing his hands up. “And you wonder why I get drunk so much.” 

He went over to the fridge, grabbing his vodka and glaring at Ryan, daring him to say something as he took a long sip. 

“I give _you_ whiplash?” Ryan asked incredulously. “You're blowing smoke in my mouth, grab my hips and kiss my neck on stage, and have the audacity to call us friends, Brendon? But of course, I'm the one that can't control my emotions. I'm the one that drives you to drink.”

Brendon stood there, mouth half open, trying to absorb what Ryan just said to him. And the implications of it. “I-” Brendon began. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Ryan spit. He grabbed some clothes and a towel, heading to the bathroom. “You're blacked out anyways. It’s nothing. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything and it never has.” He slammed the door, the shower turning on a minute later. 

Brendon stood there in shock, trying to understand. He slowly closed the bottle, setting it down on the counter. 

He doesn't remember getting in bed, and he doesn't remember falling asleep, but at some point he does both. He does remember, however, waking up with a splitting headache. And an empty hotel room. 


	2. And It's Certainly Worth It

The next day was a total blur for Brendon and his hungover ass. He spent the morning packing up his stuff and hoping for any sign of Ryan. His suitcases were packed up and sitting neatly at the bottom of his bed but the older man seemed to be gone. 

Honestly, Brendon was grateful. He wasn't sure if he had the mental power to pretend he had actually blacked out last night and didn't hear what Ryan said to him. He also had time to ponder what he meant. 

It was no secret that Brendon felt something for Ryan, something strong, but Ryan had never shown any interest back. It didn't bother Brendon directly. He didn't really mind playing off his feelings as something else more fun and bearable. Especially because every so often he’d get a reaction out of Ryan. He’d make him blush or stumble over his words or even miss a chord. Brendon took the small wins and didn't complain. 

That was the downside of drinking, especially alone. He would sit and think about it. Ryan was his best friend. Easily one of the most smart and talented people he’s ever had the pleasure of interacting with. When Ryan wasn't being weird and bitter they had a great time together. When he was drunk, he would undo all the work he put in sober to convince himself that Ryan just liked him as a friend. 

Yeah, Ryan called him out for blowing smoke into his mouth. Which Brendon only started doing because Ryan asked him to once. It became almost unspoken that if they were smoking alone it might happen, a joint or two or three into the session. 

Yeah, Ryan was on him about touching him on stage but Brendon never complained about the way Ryan would stare off stage. Looking him over gently, especially when he was curled up with his notebook working on new lyrics. 

Brendon never bothered to question Ryan about the time at the bonfire when Spencer had fallen asleep and Jon had run back into the cabin to grab more rolling papers and Ryan grabbed him by the collar and looked hard into his eyes, practically begging for something Brendon couldn't put his finger on. 

Ryan was right though. It must not matter. Or mean anything. 

Jon and Spencer come to collect him a few hours later, helping him with Ryan and his luggage into the bus. Ryan was already there, drinking a glass of orange juice on one of the couches. 

The boys got settled in and ready for the 4 hour drive to the airport. 

“So did you guys ever get back to the room or did security have to scrape you off the floor this morning?” Jon asked with a laugh. 

Brendon shrugged, feeling Ryan watching him carefully. “I don't remember too much. I work up in my bed though so that's a good sign.” 

Ryan visibly deflated into a more relaxed position. “We got back fine. I had to practically drag Brendon back but we got there.” Ryan said with a forced laugh. 

“At least you guys got some sleep.” Spencer said, dark circles under his eyes. “I was puking my guts out all night.” 

“You never got to sleep?” Jon asked. “Sorry man, I would've stayed up with you if I had known.” 

“It’s fine.” Spencer shrugged, getting up from next to Ryan. “I should try to get a few hours now though before we get on the plane. Wake me at the airport.”

“Will do.” Ryan said as Spencer made his way back to his bunk. 

It was silent for a few awkward moments before Jon spoke up. “I should also probably grab a shower. I hadn't gotten around to that.” He said, looking carefully between the two of them. Looking extra hard at Brendon. 

Of course, Jon Walker always knew far more than he was supposed to. 

“Don't slip.” Brendon said, glaring at him. 

Jon just grinned at him, making his way to the back of the bus. 

It was silent for a few more moments as Ryan read his book, curled up in a blanket. 

Brendon took a deep breath and stood up, crossing over to sit at the other end of Ryan’s couch, making him look up. 

“What’s up?” Ryan asked. 

“Talking to me again?” Brendon countered. 

Ryan paled slightly, making some kind of cringe smile that Brendon couldn't describe. 

“We should talk.” Brendon said instead. 

Ryan froze, slowly closing his book and putting it on the end table behind him. “About what?”

“What you said last night.” 

Ryan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was only 70% sure you were blacked out.” 

“Almost was.” Brendon said. “But why didn't you just bring it up when I was sober?”

“I don't even know what I’m trying to bring up, or what I’m trying to say or even what I want.” Ryan said, looking at his hands. “I don't know. You just act like you’re into me sometimes.”

Brendon swallowed hard. “And?” He said, because he didn't know what else to say. 

“And I don't know how to deal with that!” Ryan exclaimed, still quiet enough to not bother anyone else on the bus. 

“I- I can stop.” Brendon stuttered. “If you want, I can, yeah I can stop. Doing that.” 

“You can?” Ryan asked. “So you do it just to fuck with my head Brendon? Really? I thought you were better-” 

“No!” Brendon exclaimed, cutting him off. “I don't do it to fuck with your head, but if it bothers you that much, I’ll drop it.”

“If you don't do it to fuck with me, then why Brendon?” 

Brendon blushed hard, looking down. “Why do I act like I'm into you Ryan? Do I need to spell it out for you?” 

Ryan was quiet for a moment. “Oh.” He said, turning a similar shade of red. “Oh.” 

“But I get it.” Brendon began. “You’ve never made me think it was welcomed. I don't need to be let down easy Ry, but I’d still rather you know. I won't make it weird, I’ll just stop and we’ll-” 

“Do I need to spell it out for you Brendon?” Ryan interrupted. “Why it has such an effect on me? I'm not uncomfortable Brendon, I’m nervous because I care about you a lot and I can never tell when you’re joking with me or being serious. I would've brought it up sooner if I thought you actually wanted anything out of it.” 

“And if I do?” Brendon asked. “Want something out of it?” 

“Then I’m sure we can work something out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what this is lmfao but I hope you liked it
> 
> jonwalkerthebassplayer.tumblr.com


End file.
